


Spectrum

by gemjam



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 22:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7660216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waiting for a phone call, Mitch contemplates the difference between a secret and a lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spectrum

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompts _gasp, real, thanksgiving._

He can feel the heat from the dying fire against his bare shins as he stares up at the night sky, thinking about how it’s the same stars but upside down and perspective seems like everything right now. He groans out loud at himself, at the drama queen it’s all too easy to turn into when you’re jetlagged and somehow home but also homesick.

He feels disconnected from his friends who he’s come to spend the weekend at the beach with, all of them already tucked up in bed, happy and sated and the perfect amount of drunk. He feels disconnected from Alex, back in England, whose phone call he’s waiting for, laid alone in the sand in the early hours of the morning, nothing but the dying embers and half a warm beer to keep him company now. He feels disconnected from himself, from any real tangible part of his life, and it’s almost like he’s floating up there with the stars, upside down and so far away.

Mitch has a question about the difference between a secret and a lie but every time he sees Alex he doesn’t bring it up. Sometimes it’s hard to know what’s real though when he can’t talk about Alex out loud, not in any meaningful way, can’t go on a date with him, not one that ends with a kiss where anyone might see. Instead there’s jokes, there’s _banter_ , and sometimes Mitch finds it hard to see the whole relationship as anything but frivolous, like he’s the punchline to Alex’s jokes, like they’re all laughing behind his back.

He squeezes his eyes shut and places the heels of his hands against them, pressing down until he sees colours. He never doubts it when Alex is in front of him, but even that feels like a dream now. Is he really waiting on a phone call or is he stuck in a delusion?

Frustrated he sits up, grabbing his bag. He searches through the swim gear and sunscreen to find a pen, a sharpie that he carries as though anyone gives a fuck who he is. His own reality rarely seems to match up with anyone else’s. He pulls out the book he’s partway through, some psychology thing Richie gave him that he never seems to have the energy to care about, turning to the back and finding a blank page. He tears it out and uncaps the pen, beginning to make a list. A list of things that are real. A list of things he’s grateful to have in his life.

_The way his smile lights up his face._

_The way his eyes change when he gets turned on._

_The way his cheeks turn pink when I tell him he’s hot._

_The way his hands wander when we’re watching TV._

_The way he’s reliable and always means what he says._

_The way he’s learnt to be shameless with his body, stretching out naked on the bed._

_The way he washes my hair in the shower._

_The way dirty talk sounds so much dirtier in his posh accent._

_The way he gasps every time he comes like it somehow takes him by surprise._

Mitch looks over the list and most of them are secrets, things he can’t share with his friends, things he can’t show to the world, but that doesn’t make them any less honest. We’re all different people on the inside and the outside and all of those parts of you are true. People are like prisms and amazing things can happen when the light shines through at just the right angle.

The sky is upside down but they’re connected to the same earth. His friends are sleeping but they’re still here sharing this moment in time with him, building memories before heading back into the city tomorrow. These are things he knows to be true. These are things he can count on.

He crumples the paper in his hand and drops it into the fire. He doesn’t need it. Validation has to come from within.

As the words disappear his phone rings in his hoodie pocket, as though he’s trading one for the other. He smiles, laying back down on the ground as he answers it.

“Hey, Ace.”


End file.
